


The Sincere Silence of a Fight

by AmateurScribes



Series: Whumptober 2019 [6]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Denial, Dragged away, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Prompt Fic, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 12:30:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Tucker had always joked around and said that Grif and Simmons were the perfect couple. Sure, they got into fights tons of times, but those were always over stupid things and never about anything truly serious. Nevertrulyfought.Until now.





	The Sincere Silence of a Fight

**Author's Note:**

> This one was hard to write because I wasn't too interested in the prompt, whoops. But I hope you guys like it anyhow!
> 
> For the duration of this event, all mistakes are my own.

In all the years that he and Grif had been together, they've never really had a big fight- like, the type of fight between friends  _ or lovers _ that left them ignoring each and not talking and-

Yeah, Simmons has never experienced that yet with Grif.

Well, until today that was.

They had gotten into a fight and-

No matter what Simmons said, Grif just wouldn't talk to him.

"Which do you prefer, cats or dogs?" he asks.

It's after he asks it that he realized that he's never really asked before- or, maybe it was brought up once in a conversation he doesn't remember. Grif mentioned pumas before, and- those were big cats right? So maybe he was a cat person- it would make sense, he was orange, hated Mondays, loved lasagna and napping and-

Grif didn't answer him so he just assumed that he was a cat person. He's laying on his side so that his back is towards Simmons, arm cushioning his head. 

Simmons just wish he would give him the time of day and turn around.

He doesn't- he doesn't even know what he did wrong! Usually, with these sorts of things, aren't you supposed to know  _ what _ you did wrong? 

He just doesn't know what he did  _ wrong and he just wants Grif to tell him _ .

But Grif's apparently good at the silent game. 

"You know, I actually really like dogs," Simmons says, trying to get Grif to respond. "Not- not big dogs, those can like just bowl you over, you know? And not small dogs either cause those- you can't see those coming!"

No response still, not even a look in his direction or anything to indicate that he's listening.

"But like medium-sized dogs," he runs a hand through his hair. "Especially the ones with curly hair and floppy little ears? Those ones are nice. I wouldn't mind one like that."

Grif seemed like an animal person, he'd probably like an animal. Probably not birds, or well no- maybe he would like a nice bird, like a parakeet. 

Birds were colorful, well certain ones were, pigeons weren't. But birds reminded him about all of them- the Reds and Blues.

The others were avoiding him and Grif while they worked everything out. Simmons didn't want to admit that that hurt, just a little.

Simmons isn't too sure where Carolina and Wash are at the moment, but he's sure that if they were here they would sense the tension too, and would avoid the both of them as well.

He tries to settle down more comfortably, but returns to his original position, just sitting up awkwardly.

"Oh, I know something that's sure to get you to respond- or at the very least bitch at me," Simmons brightens up, a smile growing on his face. "Do you remember when- when we went to the Vegas Quadrant, I was thinking, what if we went again?"

If his eyes weren't fooling him, he thinks Grif shifted at that.

Knowing that it was working, he shifts so that he's sitting up straighter.

"We can even raid all the hotel buffets like you wanted to last time, I won't even mind," he tempted. "I won't even complain! Not even once! We can do all the things you like."

He can tell that Grif's listening now, it was an offer too good.

But he had to get something out of it, didn't he?

"But you have to stop ignoring me," at the reminder of their fight his mouth turns down into a frown. "You can't just- just talk to me? Ok?!"

He's getting tired and fed up at this point, even though Grif was interested in the Vegas Quadrant he hadn't said anything yet. Simmons' hand curled up into a fist, and he hit it weakly against the floor.

"Just fucking say something," this time his fist slammed harshly against the floor, aching with the action. "Why are you even mad at me, I didn't do  _ anything- _ just fucking say somethi-"

He whirled around at the touch of someone's hand on his shoulder, raising his near-empty needler towards the person.

Simmons doesn't even lower them when he sees that it's Carolina.

Her other hand is raised up in a calming gesture, as she speaks softly when she says, "Simmons, relax it's me."

"Carolina," he breathes out, and behind her, he can see Wash. "What- when did you guys get here?"

"Not too long ago," she answers. "Simmons put down the gun."

He complies, lowering the hand that held up the alien weapon, but he doesn't let go of it completely.

"Did the others call you?" he asks, looking around for a sign of the other Reds and Blues.

"No, we were on our way, remember?" it feels like she's treating him like glass. He doesn't like it. 

"No," he tries to swallow but his mouth is suddenly dry as if he's been speaking for hours on end. "I don't remember."

She nods and she gets up from her crouch, her hand finally getting off of his shoulder, and she says, "We should get you checked out by Grey."

"I can't really leave," he nods towards Grif. "We're having a fight, and- and it wouldn't be right to just leave in the middle of it."

"Simmons," her voice goes from soft to stern, and he doesn't know what causes the tone shift.

"You know? He's giving me the silent treatment, and- have you ever had to deal with that?" he asks, but doesn't wait for her response. "Because I could- I could really use some help on solving everything."

_ "Simmons," _ her hands are back on his shoulders. "Step away from the dead body."

"What?" he asks in disbelief, smiling at the ridiculousness of what she just said. "It's- it's not a dead body, that's Grif. I can understand the confusion-"

"Simmons," Carolina pulls at his shoulder, but he pulls back.

"Sometimes when he's in a really deep sleep, I think that too, that he's dead," his voice breaks and it feels like there's some sort of lump in his throat, but he doesn't know why that would be.

Everything's fine or- would be fine.

If Grif just responded to him then everything would be  _ fucking fine. _

"Don't make me drag you kicking and screaming, Simmons," Carolina hissed, her patience being tested. "I understand what you're going through, but now isn't the time."

"No! You don't," he stood up abruptly, knocking her hands away, gesturing wildly with the needler. "You don't understand anything!"

"Calm down," whatever sympathy that had been in her voice had disappeared as she started to grow agitated.

"Carolina, maybe I should handle this," Wash stepped forward, reaching out towards her.

"No, it's  _ fine," _ she growled. "I got this, besides, you should focus on extracting the bodies."

"I- I know," he sighs, moving like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "I just wish there could be- fuck, just someone else to do this."

"I'm sorry, Wash," Carolina was distracted now, turning towards her fellow Freelancer. "I wish I didn't have to make you do this... but I don't trust anybody else handling their bodies."

"Right," and Wash walked away, pausing by the downed aqua armored corpse. "I'll- I'll start with Lopez."

"Wise," she remarked, focusing her attention on Simmons.

But Simmons wasn't paying attention to anything that they were doing- in fact, he didn't care. He had resumed his position beside Grif, trying to get him to respond to him. 

"Which do you prefer? Milkshakes or slushies? Didn't you say you preferred slushies once? I think I remembered that-" he places his hands on Grif's side, abandoning his weapon for the moment. "I like milkshakes, personally, because have you ever seen all those really, really old movies? With the roller rinks and dinners and couples would just share a milkshake and did you know I've always wanted to try that personally? Well-"

Two firm hands grasp his shoulders pulling him away roughly from Grif, but because of the way he had positioned his hands, he inadvertently pulled Grif onto his side, revealing the shattered visor and the imperfectly positioned bullet hole right between his mismatched eyes.

"What are you doing- let go of me!" he yelled, fighting his hardest against Carolina's grasp.

"This is for your own good, Simmons," she informed him, her voice stressed and strained. "You're the only one left and I won't leave you here to torture yourself."

"No, you don't understand," he squirmed trying to break free. "I- he's just mad at me is all. We had a fight- why can't you understand that! I just need to apologize, I haven't tried that yet! Grif-"

"Simmons,  _ please," _ Carolina started to beg.

"I'm sorry, fuck! I'm so sorry," and it's like all the fight has left him as he slumps in Carolina's hold. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault, I should have stopped it."

He lets her drag him far away, past all of the other corpses, and he just finally lets the tears stream down his face as he crones, "This is all my fault, I should have done  _ something. _ I'm so sorry, Grif."

**Author's Note:**

> Broke: Grif only survivor of season 13 finale fight. Woke: _Simmons_ as the only survivor of the season 13 finale fight.
> 
> If you want to contact me, you can find me at either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing).


End file.
